VISANCHI

Jennifer’s loud shout of pain pierced through the now quiet air. Cameras flickered endlessly, trying to capture this beautiful moment of the young madam of the Blackwood brought down and disgraced at the event of the century. Blood dripped from the small cut littered on Jennifer’s face from the glasses as her make up was washed down by the numerous drinks that once laid in the glasses. She looked no less than a clown to the entire world. My first taste of revenge, just as beautiful as ever. I watched as she finally managed to stand up on her two feet. The waitress had disappeared, running away for her life a while ago after the incident. Jennifer’s face flamed in embarrassment, and she tried to hide through anger as she barked. “You fell me, how dare you?” She yelled at Visanchi, completely losing her composure. But the woman could not be intimated—I’d taught her that. She just rolled her eyes, her hands moving before her nose to fan the air in disgust, while pointing at Jennifer to st